Knowing How To Fly
by Tiff01
Summary: Once he could only see the endless depths that was the inside of eyes, Harry imagined his life as if he already lived it... My first ever fanfic! Please Review!


_Flashback:_

"_You will never win Potter…NEVER!"_

_Crimson blood flooded down the now ashen face of the once exultant Harry Potter, his eyes grimacing in utter horror and pain as imaginary fingers clutched 'round his throat. The bird of life began to fly away, away, away; a swish of a wing, an inhalation of balmy air; the blood that once lay within his body began to fall; drip, drop, drip, drop. Harry's eyelids drifted shut, slowly, leisurely, and painfully._

_Once he could only see the endless depths of blackness that was the inside of his eyes, Harry imagined his life as if he'd already lived it; hopes of a future lay forgotten in the remains of what could have been. An endless flow of water swept around him, and in it, he could see the reflections of a horde of red heads, blue- eyed, green-eyed, beautiful cerulean. A perished man crossed the threshold his thoughts, a sweep of silver hair flowing to his stomach and across his back, the twinkle of periwinkle eyes never leaving as everyone and everything else left so, so long ago._

_Then! Oh, and then! A perfect sight, a perfect dream emerged in the translucent waters of Harry's puddle of tears: Hermione Granger. Unkempt russet hair hung to her shoulders, but only on the outside…inside, auburn strands flowed gently to the small of her back, the light and life shining benevolently within chocolate eyes. She understood all of him, including his puddle of tears that always grew; she understood why he flew on his broomstick with the angels. His thoughts subsided; he opened his eyes for a split second, taking in nothing but a blur of an evil body, along with an innocent soul with chocolate eyes…he felt himself collapse into darkness, the vision of Hermione overtaking his mind…he was gone, but not forever; that was Voldemort. He had killed him with his thoughts of love and reminiscence. _

_Several days later:_

_Harry awoke to the balmy scent of the sheets of the Hospital Wing, the sun veiling through the windows; at first he smiled, not remembering a single event from three days or long ago. Suddenly, he jolted up, recounting the vision of Voldemort unconscious, killed violently by he, Harry's thoughts…what a thing! What a miracle! But no sooner than the jubilance flowed through his body, an angry bird took it away, shouting invectively, "No! You can't feel happiness! You killed not only your enemy, but you killed the one you thought understood you…"_

"_NOOO! GET AWAY FROM ME!"_

_Ron Weasely burst through the door of Harry's private room, feeling apprehensive towards every utterance Harry made, fearing it would startle the figure next to Harry, the figure of coma induced Hermione Granger._

_"Ron! What happened? Is Hermione all right? How did she get like this? Did Voldemort do this her? Cause I swear to Merlin I'll—"_

_"Whoa, take it easy there, mate. For the most part, Hermione should be okay, but she's in a coma. Yes, Voldemort did this to her---settle down!" Harry made a violent effort to lift himself up off the infernal bed, hoping to place his fingers 'round the grimy throat that belonged to Voldemort. "You won't be able to kill Voldemort for this, because you already have."_

_Harry sat, befuddled, disbelieving, although he did know that he had indeed killed him, but not daring to believe. The bird didn't allow him to. "What do you mean, Ron? What do you mean I killed him? I passed out when he was strangling me! I suppose the Avada Kedavra wasn't enough for him…wanted to cause me real pain…muggle pain! How could I have killed him? Tell me Ron! TELL ME HOW I COULD HAVE KILLED HIM! IF I HAD KILLED HIM, I WOULD FEEL HAPPY! RELIEVED! NAME EVERY GOOD FEELING IN THE BOOK! I DON'T FEEL IT, BECAUSE HERMIONE ISN'T HERE!" Harry took Ron, shoving him back into the wall, and then picking up every object in sight, hurling them out the window, the shards of glass falling to the floor._

_Ron sat, shocked by Harry's violent, painful submission to what had happened, deciding to take it one explanation at a time. "Harry, I don't know how you did it, but before Hermione went unconscious, I was there. She said she was sharing your thoughts as you went unconscious, that you were remembering everything about your life. She blacked out right as you were thinking about my family and me, so she cried. She didn't know if you ever thought about her before you died." Ron took a deep breath before he continued to recount the horrors of that fateful night. "When you passed out, Voldemort sort of went rigid, and then writhed his body this way and that. He let out a shriek that was even louder than Ginny's before she was k-killed." Ron stumbled over the word, remembering his sister who was murdered by the vindictive Dolohov "And then, he just…died. Just like that. I didn't know what to do, mostly because I couldn't believe it."_

_Harry threw himself into Ron's arms, hugging his best friend. He only wished Hermione was conscious so she could join them. The tears fell from emerald and cerulean eyes, gently forming a new puddle that untied three souls, for Hermione's tears were embedded in both of theirs. Harry let go of Ron, and walked toward Hermione, her hair matted, her once brilliant eyes bruised and darkened, and yet…she was as beautiful as ever. Harry resigned himself to the fact that he might never see her again, that he now held, simultaneously, a cold, lifeless body, and a warm, exquisite soul that rose up to Merlin and Heaven._

End Flashback (one year later):

Harry woke, his eyes taking in his new flat, but not caring. He prepared himself to visit Hermione for the 365th consecutive day; it had been a cold, difficult year without her, her love, her mind. He gathered up an unsullied bouquet of scarlet roses, and headed out to Hogwarts to see Hermione in the hospital wing. Tears began to fall from his eyes once again as he stepped out of the elevator, and into her room. He dropped the roses he was holding as he saw his Hermione sitting straight up in her bed, her face and hair suddenly that of a seraph, silky curls framing a new face. Tears streamed down from her chocolate orbs in time with his as he took her into his arms.

"Hermione…how? Wha—I don't get it…"

Hermione lifted her face to his. "Harry…everyone once told me something that always stuck with me, but I didn't believe it. They said, 'only angels know how to fly.' I decided to become one so that one day, I could lift my wings, and fly my way back to my life, Ron, Mrs. Weasely…"

Harry's face shined with concern, surprise, happiness, jubilance; oh, so much jubilance that he could soar up into a vast, universal sky. "And?" His voice cracked.

"And my…you, even with a broken wing." Hermione's voice sang melodically.

Harry lifted her face with his calloused fingers, and gently pressed his lips to hers. Hermione moaned into his mouth, her arms encircling his neck as their mouths joined as one, as did their souls, as did their angels he now knew how to fly.


End file.
